


Love honor and obey

by nothing_much



Series: Love honour and obey thy heart [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe, Angst, Comfort, M/M, Other characters mentioned - Freeform, Stiles Leaves Beacon Hills, Stiles comes back to Beacon Hills, Therapy, kind of sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:20:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28513287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothing_much/pseuds/nothing_much
Summary: Stiles is not a werewolf. He does not have the healing abilities werewolves have. He knows it, the werewolves in his pack knows it, even if they don't think much about it when it's themselves that bruise him up.Stiles has to leave for his own good. It doesn't really work that good. When does it ever.
Relationships: Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale & Stiles Stilinski, Sheriff Stilinski & Derek Hale, Sheriff Stilinski & Peter Hale, Sheriff Stilinski & Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski/Original Character(s)
Series: Love honour and obey thy heart [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2100033
Comments: 8
Kudos: 227





	1. It is what it is

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, as usual (at least in this fandom) this is a five chapter story. All the chapters are done. There is a slight issue in the last chapter I have to see to, but other than that I think it's just going through the chapters one by one preferably one a day, and put them up here. 
> 
> I'm happy to as how well I've been welcomed into this fandom, and I enjoy all the Kudos and read all the comments I get. I have kind of an awkward relationship with the comments though, I seldom answer them. I am anyhow always happy to get them. Especially those who inspire me to write something from another angle or gives me an idea. 
> 
> So just like this, before you've even read the first line of the story. Thank you for being here. And I hope you enjoy even though this is not a very cheery story. 
> 
> All the best wishes for every single one of you for 2021!

He was always hurting somewhere. It had been going on for some time now. Ever since he got involved with all of this supernatural bull. In the beginning he could write it off as injuries due to Lacrosse practice. Or being a klutz or such. Minor bruising from getting pushed into a wall, looked the same as being pushed into lockers. No one noticed. A slight concussion from being shoved into his own steering wheel. Even a mild concussion from being hit over your head with a part from your own car. Explainable. 

But when gashes from whips, knives, and well let’s face it, torture showed up. He started to try to hide it. How you could hide bloody wounds and broken ribs from several werewolves was beyond him. But such was chaos, it made people blind to what or who wasn’t important enough. And he definitely wasn’t. Well, he was important for survival, but seemed unimportant for daily life. He took what he got and rolled with the punches.

His own pack started to realise he wasn’t unbreakable and they were more careful with him. Especially after they lost people in their pack. Greif, mourning and loss seemed to be a theme for them. It bound them together. But it also had them look at Stiles as a liability, someone easily taken, evident from many times he’d been taken. Easily hurt, same reason, but by that also someone easily killed. They didn’t look at how they, themselves treated him. At all. Kept banging him up. Not thinking about their strength when they hugged, tackled or ‘slapped’ him. And it was what it was Stiles figured.   
He didn’t notice it at first but it started after the Nogitsune. Protection. Their protection strategy sucked though. It would, since he hadn’t had a part in it. Pushing him out of the pack only made him more vulnerable. Easier to take, and hurt, and kill. And every time he was taken, it made the pack push him further away. To exclude him from everything important.

No they still used him for research, for plans, for ranting to, on and about. He was still connected to them, and still smelled like them. It was kind of a catch 22. He was still looking, and smelling and generally being around pack. So people, creatures and well everyone thought he still was. He still had the company, and infrequent updates from an occasional Hale though.

So, still taken, still bruised, and aching, in the middle of things until Theo. And Donovan during senior year. Then he decided to take himself out of the equation. He did the only thing he could think of in the situation he was in. He went to his father and told him everything. The Sheriff knew about the supernatural, the pack and most of what was going on. But Stiles had never told him how he was treated within the pack. 

He’d never let his father think that everything wasn’t ok. That he didn’t feel safe anymore. It took a couple of hours to decide what to do, and how to go about it, but in the end there was a plan formed. Since Stiles only lacked a couple of credits, the Sheriff was to approach the school and check out the possibility to do those on online courses. Stiles had approached a couple of universities and he was pretty sure he could get into, with a scholarship to one he’d applied to on the West Coast. 

When all was said and done, he left the house with some extra cash for new clothes, a pair of new boxers packed, as a pair of socks. Everything to avoid drawing unwanted, supernatural attention to himself.

Surprisingly he was successful. When the university courses started, he lived in a small dorm-room, shared with another boy. He spoke to his dad on the phone, or on Skype at least twice a week. He got a job as a barista in a small coffee shop close to campus. Things was for once really good for him. 

It didn’t last. Of course it didn’t. He was Stiles Stilinski. And the life he’d had, left scars not only on his body. And not only the occasional (actually unexpectedly few) night mare. It had left behaviours and acceptance of other’s behaviours that wasn’t sound. His experiences of relationships were dysfunctional at best.

He got pulled in. Whirlwind romance three months into University. His closest experience with romance and relationships were that of Scott McCall and Alison Argent. He didn’t see any wrong with only spending their time together. Love was supposed to be like that. You live in your own bubble. All that matters is the two of you. No one else. You two alone. 

When the three-month anniversary passed and he was asked to movie in, he happily did. He quit his job to have more time for them. He loved and was loved that was enough.

Six months had passed by and he rarely spoke to his father anymore. Or anyone. He didn’t have to; they were enough for each other. No one else mattered.

Nine months and he didn’t start up a second year of university. He took care of their home. A small apartment, but still. He didn’t need an education. They could manage.

Their one-year anniversary he spent in the hospital. Nothing major. He just needed his cast taken off. The doctor was the same who he’d met the first time he visited the hospital. He didn’t seem to recognise him. That time it had been his nose, not broken, but they’d thought so. Better safe than sorry. There had been another doctor for his ribs, and a third for his broken arm. 

But still, he was all right. 

They were all right.

A concussion, and five stitches at the back of his head. It was silly. He was at the hospital again. He was clumsy ok. And he still hadn’t really grown out of his problem with gravity. He wasn’t pushed down the stairs. He had just lost balance. Since it was his fourth time in there and the doctor recognised him from checking that his arm had healed all right when they took of the cast two weeks ago, he’d alerted the counsellor who was presently asking him all sorts of awkward questions. Like he was abused or something.

He was ok.

Well until he wasn’t. He spent the night alone at the hospital. There was no silence to be found. No darkness. He couldn’t chase away the thoughts with sleep, since he wasn’t allowed. It was getting closer to his mother’s death-day. He realised that he hadn’t spoken to his dad in over six months. He missed his father. He missed those who he had still felt a connection to in Beacon Hills. The Hales. All of them. He even missed Jackson they’d had some real helpful conversations after the Nog… the incident. The rest of them. The pack, not so much. 

He decided to contact them when he got out of the hospital. 

He realised he didn’t know how to. He’d not gotten a new iPhone after his was accidentally crushed a couple of months ago. His computer had given up its ghost before summer. He hadn’t had the money to get a new one. 

Being kept awake with nothing to do. The stitches were itching. Well. It gave him the opportunity to consider his life. Think about things he hadn’t thought of for a long time. His mother’s death day, and his mother reminded him of another time. A time when love didn’t equal some kind of pain. A time before the supernatural. When love was painless and unconditional. When friendship equalled love. When he trusted in people, and people trusted him. 

He was a failure he knew that. The only good thing he managed was in their relationship. He knew that. 

*

It hit him like a troll’s fist to the face (YES he knew what that felt like). As soon as he opened the door on his way home from the hospital. Two nights and lots of dollars later. He hated the apartment. With all his might. He didn’t say anything though. Not again. Every single time he had opposed something, or tried to change anything, he’d ended up pushed up against a wall, being yelled at for as long as it took for him to make up for whatever bad thing he’d expressed. To apologise for his bad taste, for offering his opinions when they were not wanted, and for being out of order. He was supposed to love, honour and obey. 

And he did. Love. Honour. And obey. Except for Saturday mornings. They were his sanctuary. They were grocery run day. At least one and a half hour alone. An hour and a half where he could breathe. Time of his own. He could relax, be his own master. Today he was going to drink tea, boring Earl Grey Tea and he would sweeten it with sugar. Real sugar. Maybe it sounded simple to others. But to him it was a luxury. He had stiff shoulders and his head still hurt some, he sat down on the kitchen floor, just trying to relax. 

Imagine his surprise when before the water even boiled he heard someone at the door of the apartment. From the angle he sat, he could see the door, and someone opening it. He was at the wrong side of it to see who it was immediately. The someone behind the door took a step into the apartment, then another. Then Peter Hale appeared in his vision.


	2. Going home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pain continues.

Peter took a hesitant step into the apartment where he’d tracked Stiles to. He had been gone a long time and his dad didn’t really seem to know where he was. He knew that his son was shacking up with somebody and that he was happy. The contact had just lessened down, before it disappeared totally. The Sheriff was sure that his son was not involved in anything supernatural and was in a happy relationship. Peter was in the neighbourhood. 

He was. 

In the neighbourhood.

Well, he went to the neighbourhood to find Stiles. So sue him. He missed the smart mouthed teen. Beacon Hills was boring without him. Annoying the pack was boring without him. Annoying his nephew was boring and his nephew was boring without him. He had enough. 

It had been more than a year. So he started looking. He couldn’t find him through school. Any school. Stiles seemed to no longer attend any university in the United States. And The Sheriff was sure he was. He was sure that Stiles still lived in San Francisco. That Stiles would have told him if he moved. He couldn’t provide an address. Or a name for the person in a relationship with Stiles. The Sheriff wasn’t even sure if Stiles was dating a man or a woman. It seemed weird. 

Being Peter Hale, he found Stiles within a fortnight. Well, to be precise, he found him in general in a week, hospital records. He got the address in ten days. And he stood here in the apartment within a fortnight. 

The door was open, so he didn’t bother with knocking. He opened it with a smirk. He took a hesitant step inside, then one more, before he stopped. He took a deep breath, his smirk disappeared. He froze. To be sure he took another breath. Through the nose. He could hear Stiles heartbeat. So he knew he was there. 

In his first breath he’d tasted a faint trace of blood. Stiles blood. Anxiety, fear and well tea. Earl Grey. All seemed from the same source. His second he’d separated the scent defeat, pain and stress had also been present. He could also distinguish another person entwined with the scent of Stiles. That scent seemed to mix contentment, with anger and being discontented. It was a confusing mix. 

But what was most concerning was Stiles. He’d blead, very resent. Not to mention the other scents. Peter had come to visit. At least that’s what he’d told himself. This was different. New plan. Those two breaths made all the difference. 

His eyes flashed blue. He turned towards the heartbeat. Stiles was sitting on the kitchen floor watching him like he doubted his eyes or maybe his mind. 

“Pack your bags” was the only words uttered during the first half hour that followed. 

With an uncertain nod, Stiles stood up, turned off the kettle, and cautiously walked towards a shut door. Peter could see he had no socks on. In the middle of the room he seemed to change his mind and stopped. Looked at Peter, then at the door, Peter could scent some of the confused emotions that the boy was radiating, before he seemed to make up his mind. Stiles changed his route and started to walk towards Peter, who stood still not knowing what to expect. But Stiles just walked past him, out the door, Peter followed. He didn’t even close the door.

Peter gently steered Stiles towards his car. He opened the doors when it was in front of them. Waiting for Stiles to realise he’d left without, keys, wallet, phone or anything else, even shoes. But Stiles just walked to the door on the passenger’s side, opened it and sat. In silence.

The Silence was interrupted half an hour later by Stiles. Peter gave him a bottle of water, he smelled dehydrated, and Stiles grunted a short “thanks” before drinking it down, and then he leant his head on the headrest, closed his eyes and fell asleep. The boy slept for the duration of the journey. The scent he was giving of in the car was relaxed confusion.

As they neared Beacon Hills. During the drive he’d tried not to think about anything but the driving, the road and the cars on it. But the closer they came, Peter started thinking about where to take Stiles. The Sheriff would want to see him. The pack? He winced. To his apartment. 

His apartment it was. He told his phone to call Derek, who picked up after the second ring. 

“Nephew” Peter said before Derek could even say hello.

“Uncle” Derek answered.

“I have a fugitive in my car. I’m taking him to my apartment. Could you contact the Sheriff and take him there to meet us in an hour?”

Derek not a man of many words, especially when dealing with his uncle, grunted and hung up on him.

“Rude” he told nobody in particular. Since there was no on online, and Stiles was still sleeping beside him. He was sure Derek would follow his instructions though. He always came through. 

As the car rolled up to the apartment building he could see the Sheriff’s cruiser and Derek’s car. Something settled in him and he parked. He silently got out of the car, went around it, and carefully woke Stiles up. He looked around confused, but took Peter’s hand and got out of the car. He held tight while he, still barefoot followed Peter who closed the door behind him, and looked the doors. He took one look at Stiles and proceeded to lift him up in a princess carry, and walking towards the door. Stiles opened it, and they started to climb the stairs. As soon as they got in, Peter started talking silently with Stiles. A kind of warning to Derek and the Sheriff. He knew Derek would prepare the man when he heard Peter. 

“Stiles dear, how are you holding up darling? We’ll talk when we’re in my apartment. Do you think you can stand by yourself?” He tried to sound… well not creepy. It payed off in a nod from Stiles and he carefully sat him down on the carpet in the stairs for a moment. He reached for his key, and when Stiles started walking. He reached for him and picked him up again.

“I live on the top floor little one, and you have no socks on” he told Stiles and the others, before he continued the climbing.

When he reached his floor, the door was open, and both Derek and the Sheriff stood in the hallway waiting. Both looking worried and both had a scent that backed that up, and more. At the sight of them, Stiles relaxed even more and reached one arm towards each of them. 

*

Peter carried him over the threshold, and in to the living room. He sat him down in the middle of the large couch. The Sheriff sat down on one side of him, and Derek on the other. Bracketing him in. Trying to make him feel warm and safe. Peter went and got a blanket for him and put it around his feet. Before he went to the kitchen and made Stiles a cup of tea, Earl Grey, and brought the sugar lumps with him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The welcoming...

Derek was shocked into silence when he heard Peter speaking softly to someone in the stairway. He’d reluctantly called the Sheriff and gone to Peter’s flat. As they waited, he had no clue as to what he was doing there. And why. Not before Peter started speaking. To Stiles. In that soft voice. Something was wrong. He told the Sheriff as much.

“He’s got Stiles with him. Something’s wrong” the Sheriff nodded at that and hurried out in the hallway, opening the door to the stairs. They could hear Peter’s soft voice speaking. Derek didn’t think that the Sheriff could make out the words though.

“Peter is carrying him; he’s got no socks on” It seemed odd, but he still told, or rather murmured to the man beside him. Both of them worried. 

When Peter came up the stairs, and into view, they were both just silent and watched them both. Peter was carefully walking the last few stairs and towards them. Stiles reached for both of them, and touched them, before they entered Peter’s flat. 

Inside Derek couldn’t do much else but follow, and sit as close beside Stiles as it was possible in the large couch Peter had. He could hear the Sheriff sitting on Stiles other side, and they both grabbed a hand each. To hold on to, to warm up, to touch. They didn’t know, or care. Peter left for the kitchen. Nobody had broken the silence, and it wasn’t until Stiles was handed a mug with hot tea he smiled a little.

“How did you know” was his first words since Peter had entered the apartment that morning. 

“I could smell the tea when I arrived, this morning darling” Peter answered. “Now, two or three lumps of sugar” he held his hand forward with said sugar. Stiles reached out for them greedily and took them all. Before he poured them in the mug though, he looked around a little bit uncertain. As if to ask if it really was OK, before he carefully put the sugar in the hot beverage. Peter handed him a spoon. 

Stiles looked down in his mug. He looked so small. Derek slowly moved his eyes away from the shaking man beside him, and looked at Peter. He could see the Sheriff doing the same.

“So” he said, it wasn’t a question as much as an initiative for the older man to explain what was going on, and why a pain ridden, tea drinking Stiles, with so many bad scents was sitting between him and his father on Peter’s couch. 

“Well, so, I” Peter started. Derek would think he was uncertain if it wasn’t his uncle, who took a deep breath and started again.

“I was kind of bored, and you know what happens when I get bored” Peter started. All three men on the couch nodded in agreement.

“Well I thought I brake the trend, and so I thought I’d do some research. And I realised that Stiles had borrowed one of the books I needed” He paused, almost a minute, before he started again. “Then I remembered all the times me and Stiles researched together. And I kind of looked up his address for a surprise visit”

The room was really quiet. You could hear nothing but the heartbeats of the men in the room, and their breathing. “I got there and well, the door was kind of not really closed, well, not open either, so I thought I’d surprise him for real, since I could hear his heartbeat. Then I went into the rooms”. They all looked at Peter. Derek held his breath. He didn’t know what to expect.

“Stiles, when you’re ready to talk about what happened in that flat, you tell us OK?” Peter said in a soft voice. “But know, I couldn’t leave you there. It wasn’t safe” Derek saw Stiles look at Peter with wide eyes. The Sheriff put a hand on Peter’s shoulder and squeezed. 

“Why didn’t you just come home if it wasn’t safe?” Derek couldn’t help to ask. He regretted the words as soon as Stiles kind of folded into himself, and Peter gave him the stink eye. 

“It’s ok darling, no one’s mad at you” Peter consoled Stiles. 

The Sheriff looked at his son, and asked in a soft voice. “Is it ok if I touch you, son?” 

And Stiles. Stiles who usually was like a squirrel on drugs, with a habit of putting a foot in his mouth, and keep talking. Nodded. The silence around him was almost screaming. And it was somehow louder than his constant talking ever was. Stiles just nodded. 

“I didn’t want to take him to your place Sheriff, in case we were followed here. And from the very little I saw, that is a real scenario” Both Derek and the Sheriff agreed, without even knowing what he had seen. Peter was pack. There were some things they knew he couldn’t ever be trusted with. But pack took care of pack. And that was something they all trusted him with. Well, all lucky enough to count as pack. And Derek knew that everyone in this room, right now. Was. Without a doubt. Pack. 

The Sheriff had pulled Stiles to his chest in a really tight hug. Stiles was still holding on to the warm beverage in his hands. He looked like he wasn’t really aware. 

“Sorry, I’m not mad” Derek whispered. “I just don’t really understand what’s going on” 

The Sheriff looked at him and decided to explain, to both of them.

“The two of you are a little bit older than the rest of the pack, and you were probably not really close to the boys in the pack” the Sheriff shrugged, and tried to talk without laying any blame where there shouldn’t be any. “You supported Stiles when he needed, he told me you kept in contact, and tried to update him on things when you could” he looked at his son who was still wrapped in his arms. Stiles nodded.

“The rest of them though” the Sheriff continued. “He told me that they never really got the hang of how strong THEY were, so they bruised him, and hurt him without knowing. In the beginning he told them, but then he got used to it” Stiles made a sound. “He’d had more broken ribs, stitches and sprains than anyone of the mundane guys in the Lacrosse team. It was getting difficult for him to explain away his scars and such.” The Sheriff sighed.

“Well, somewhere in there the pack started to realise he got hurt easily, they didn’t let up themselves, but started to leave Stiles out more and more. He was pushed away, but they still hung around with him, so to supernatural creatures and hunters, he still smelled and acted like pack. They still used him for research too. So they made him vulnerable, and then they complained about him being vulnerable, which made them push him away further. We decided to act, which is how and why Stiles ended up in San Francisco, you did find him in San Francisco?” he looked at Peter for the last question.

“Stiles,” Derek spoke, feeling a little more sure of what to say, “You can stay here with Peter, I’ll stay too” he looked up at his uncle for confirmation before he continued. “Your dad, Peter and I will see to it that you get the care you need. You have stitches, do you need to clean them?” He asked.

Stiles shook his head against his father’s shoulder.

Derek wanted two things, and they didn’t correspond. Either he wanted to leave the Sheriff and Stiles behind, take Peter, go back to where his uncle had found his pack-mate, and kill whomever had hurt him this badly. He wanted to taste blood. And not the blood that he could scent in the air close to Stiles. 

Or he wanted to rip Stiles out of his father’s arms, run into the guestroom he usually used when he was in the flat which more often than not. He wanted to put all the soft things he could and make a nest, or a den on the bed and put Stiles in the middle of it, and spend his days making sure that no one hurt Stiles, and that Stiles was happy.

It was two very conflicting reactions, and he settled for slowly reaching out for Stiles and putting a hand on his shoulder.

“We’ll fix it” he said. “All of us are here for you the apartment is big enough for all of us, if one of us sleeps on this couch, and Peter and I can take turns”. He looked at his uncle who nodded. 

“Sheriff you can take the guest room on the right, and you Stiles can take the one on the left. It has an adjourning door to the master bedroom, which Derek and I will take turns on using.” Peter told them. 

“Do you want me to go down to the car and get your thing” And well Derek was again given the stink eye from his uncle and this time it was joined by the Sheriff, who slowly took the now empty mug from his son’s hands, and reached for the towel now handed to him by Peter. 

“I have to get home to get a change of clothes”, the Sheriff told them, “is it ok if I bring this, do you have a washing machine? I’ll bring Stiles some of the clothes he left behind, and between us we can probably dress him for a couple of days” he said as he stood up.

“There is a washing machine in the room behind the kitchen, you can find a dryer, a rack and powder in there too” Peter pointed the way.

“Darling boy, do you want to take a shower?” Peter asked and Stiles nodded. 

“I don’t want you to be on your own, so Derek is going to sit on the toilet, the shower wall is frosted, so you don’t have to worry. I just don’t want you to be alone. Is that ok?” Peter said, and the Sheriff nodded his agreement when Derek looked. 

Stiles nodded. 

Derek wished he could hear the words ‘Lead the way Sourwolf’ but he knew that was too much to hope for in this situation. He didn’t really get why they were all angry with him. Maybe the Sheriff would bring Stiles stuff up when he returned. He reached out a hand and Stiles took it, they walked towards ‘his’ room and Derek knew that Peter would redo the bed, and see to it that the sheets were fresh, and that he had everything he needed while they were in the small en suite bathroom. 

Stiles just dropped his clothes in front of the door. Put them in the hamper in the corner and walked naked into the bathroom. It was kind of weird. But to each is own. He didn’t seem body shy anyway. Derek followed, and sat down on the toilet, he left the door open, and kept a large, very soft towel in his knee, to hand over to Stiles when he was done. Outside he could hear Peter ordering Chinese food, he remembered Stiles liked spring rolls and could hear Peter ordering extra. 

Stiles seemed to just stand in the shower, not moving. Derek thought it was best to let him. 

As Peter entered the room to redress the bed, he started muttering loud enough for Derek to hear. He muttered a list of the horrible things he’d smelt in the apartment he’d found Stiles in. He also told Derek about the hospital records, which he hadn’t really thought much about, they both knew Stiles didn’t have the best relationship with gravity. But when in combination with the smells, and the fact that there were a close to catatonic boy on the kitchen floor who’d just got up and done what Peter said. And brought NOTHING from the apartment. That combination and the fact that Stiles didn’t speak, and hadn’t been in contact with his father in a really long time. Well it just screamed abuse.

When it finally hit home. Derek stood up. Let go of the towel. He knocked on the door to the shower and could hear the heartbeat of the human race, when Stiles carefully opened it he asked.

“Can I join you?”

When Stiles nodded. He stepped in. Clothes and all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still not happy with part of the last chapter. I've rewritten it and read through it a couple of times. There is an important paragraph, that I want to be in a certain place, that doesn't really fit there.... But it's important.... Well I have a couple of days to.... Yeah, well, do nothing..... We'll see. Next update is tomorrow.


	4. A quiet kind of safety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being taken care of.

As he stood under the shower and let the warm water hit his body. No one was going to complain that he’d used up all the hot water. Nobody was going to make him take cold showers, because he couldn’t be trusted with the first shower and sharing or even leaving hot water for another shower. 

He just stood there and listened to the water he could hear Peter mumbling in the kitchen and he could feel Derek’s presence. He felt safe. He was still in Beacon Hills, everything could fall in on him at any time. But he trusted Derek and his dad 100%. He trusted Peter with his life, and lots of other things. Well he knew Peter and when to trust him. And he knew he could trust him with this. 

He didn’t want to think of anything that had led up to this moment. He focused himself and let the water distract him.

Suddenly Derek moved outside the shower door. There was a soft knock. He opened the door. He didn’t know what to expect. Was he going to be told off for wasting hot water or had he done something wrong. Maybe it was Derek’s hamper and a wolf thing. He decided to take his chances, trust and all that jazz. And slowly opened the door. 

And almost had a heart attack. 

Derek wanted to join him. What did that mean. And for god’s sake he was still in a committed, if well right now a little bit of long distance, relationship. But he didn’t really dare to turn the wolf down, so he nodded. 

And got another shock. Derek was probably trying to kill him as the wolf stepped into the shower clothes and all. 

Stiles didn’t really know what to do with this situation, so he did what used to work before. He ignored it. Derek was still for a couple of moments before he reached for a sponge on the wall, put soap on it and started to clean Stiles off. Stiles just stood there and let himself be taken care of. He was thoroughly clean from head to toe when he left the shower and stepped in to the warm, and soft towel Derek held up for him.

He left Derek in the bathroom, to deal with his clothes, and went into the guest room. There was a very large bed in there, that he hadn’t noticed before. On the bed there was some clothes for him. He sat down beside them, and watched as Derek entered same pattern of towel covering him, as he walked up to a dresser and pulled out a soft henley and a pair of sweaters and put on. Stiles looked down at the pile of clothes almost identical and put the sweaters on, the henley was as soft as it looked and he burrowed his face in it before he pulled it over his head. 

Derek waited for him, and took him by the hand, and lead him back to the couch where Peter had started to bring plates, glasses and cutlery. He was currently raiding his fridge for drinks. Obviously asking Derek things, since he let out a couple of soft “yes” at random intervals while he sat beside Stiles. 

Stiles started to feel guilty for not leaving a note, for not…well, staying. For leaving. He started to feel guilty.

“Maybe I should go back” he said. “Peter, you have to take me back, please” 

Peter just hummed kind of non-committal. Before he stood before them with a beer for the Sheriff, and bottled water for the rest of them.

“Food first” he said. 

Stiles wasn’t really hungry but he didn’t want to be a bother. After dinner Peter could take him back. And maybe Peter could explain. It would be all right. Probably. In the end anyway. He would have to figure out ways to make up for today’s slip-up when it came to love, honour and obeying.

Stiles could feel himself sinking further into the couch. He would have to remember to pick up his clothes and bring them back with him. He didn’t know how he would explain what he was wearing, and how to get the clothes back to Peter or Derek, maybe Peter could wait while he changed into… his dirty clothes again. He would have to wash his clothes when he got home. He’d gotten tea on his jeans. Maybe he could ask for another shirt, maybe a henley when things had calmed down again. He touched his stitches. 

He realised that Peter and Derek was watching him, and he didn’t really know what to do about it. The knock on the door kind of saved him, and his father arrived. He dropped a bag inside the door and took his uniform to the utility room behind the kitchen, where he put it in the machine.

Before he came back there was another knock on the door, and this time a delivery boy handed, more Chinese food than Stiles had seen ordinary food in months, over to Peter who tipped him as he left. The scent of the food made Stiles stomach growl. 

Peter took the containers out of the box they’d been delivered in, and opened them. He put the rice ones in the middle with a noodle one. Then he placed the different kinds of meat and vegetables around them, and in front of Stiles he placed all the spring rolls. Stiles looked at him gratefully. Maybe he could eat a spring roll.

The others gathered around and started plating food. Stiles dad opened his beer and they sat down and ate together in a comfortable silence. This was nice. 

He needed to get home. Now. He stood up, and walked towards the door. Maybe he could take a bus. But before he even reached the end of the couch Derek was there with him, taking his hand and leading him back to the couch. 

“You said you would eat first” he told Stiles. 

They all looked at him. There was a spring roll on his plate. He thought he’d eaten that. He sat down to eat it.

“Son, do you want me to call and explained what happened?” the Sheriff asked him. He thought about it for a minute. It couldn’t hurt the more people to say they just came and got him, without consent, the easier it was to believe that maybe it would work out. He nodded.

“Do you have a phone number for me” the Sheriff asked. Horrified Stiles realised that he didn’t. There hadn’t been any reason for him to get a new phone, he never called anyone. And he didn’t. He didn’t know the phone number. His dad couldn’t call. HE couldn’t call to tell he was on his way back. He felt the bile in his mouth and there was no way to stop the panic rising within now. He was going into a full blown panic attack.

He regained his consciousness wrapped up between his father and Derek. He felt like a wet blanket. 

“Son, there is no chance that we’re taking you back tonight. Peter tracked down a number, and he’s in his office, calling it now. You are to stay here until I say you can go back. Peter will find a reason, trust him” the Sheriff said. Stiles couldn’t think. He just held on to the warmth of his dad and Derek.

A couple of minutes later Peter came out of the room his dad was supposed to sleep in. He imagined it being some combination of office and guest room. He looked relaxed. But he’d felt Derek kind of stiffen a couple of times since he came to, and suspected that he’d been listening in to what had been said. 

“It’s done; you’re staying here for a while” Peter told them. Stiles looked at him feeling more than a little suspicious. But he couldn’t detect lies like the wolves. And he was outnumbered. And he was really tired. 

Slowly the food disappeared from plates and containers. Stiles was dozing off when Peter started to collect the left overs and put what could be saved in the refrigerator. Derek and his dad stayed close, and before he was fast asleep, Derek picked him up and carried him to the bed. His dad went ahead and pulled the blankets so both of them tucked him in. As they stood up to leave Stiles felt a slight sliver of panic, and Derek stopped before he was too far away. 

“Do you want one of us to stay?” he asked and Stiles nodded jerkily. “It has to be me, your father is working tomorrow, and Peter has things to do” he added. Stiles just closed his eyes. Derek climbed on the bed, and lay down on top of the blankets. “You can start off in your own bed” he muttered to Peter. “I’ll sleep on the couch if or when Stiles kicks me out” he ended. 

For the first time in what felt like an eternity Stiles actually smiled. 

*

Nightmares woke them all up a couple of hours later. Well, most of them. The Sheriff slept through them. His room was too far away, and his ears, well he didn’t have werewolf ears.

Stiles had only had the time to get stuck and realise he was caught in a really bad dream. Beaten, in the dream he knew that it would be worse, bloodier and more painful than even Gerard had beaten him. He wasn’t more than touched once in the dream. He was woken up by Derek. He was crying, and counting his fingers almost deliriously. When he was sure he was awake he looked up at Derek, who had been joined by Peter.

“This is why I have to sleep behind closed doors and by myself” he whispered. Then “I’m sorry”. 

Peter just shrugged, and Derek moved closer.

“Nothing to be sorry about, darling” Peter whispered.

“We’ll make you feel safe again” Derek added.

Just before he fell back to sleep he heard Peter whisper something over his head.

“This is going to be hard work, and it’s not going away tomorrow. Do you know what you’re getting yourself into?”

He could feel Derek nod just before he fell back into sleep

*

When he woke up in the morning he was still wrapped in Derek’s arms. Peter had disappeared. But he could smell coffee and hoped that Peter had made it fresh. He stayed in the warm embrace and enjoyed the touch. Except for the sex they didn’t touch much at home.

He needed to get back home. But in this hot cocoon he couldn’t even think about panic of even worry about home. This was what heaven must feel like. He could see Peter enter the room. 

“Do you want coffee or tea? Is a toast okay or do you want pancakes for breakfast?” 

Stiles froze. That wasn’t just yes or no questions. He’d have to speak. Anxiety showed its ugly face and his throat tightened. He tried to hide in Derek’s arms. He knew it was ridiculous but he turned and burrowed his head in the other man’s chest. 

Peter laughed friendly, and Derek seemed to wake up. 

“So Stiles, darling, do you still like to drink coffee in the mornings?” he repeated his question and made it easier to answer. Stiles responded with a nod. 

“Okay then, I’ll make some toast and some pancakes, with that, will chocolate chip do?” he asked again, and again Stiles nodded.

“Your father left for work half an hour ago. I have an old phone for you, in which I put his, mine and Derek’s number. You can use it while you’re here, if you need it OK?” A third nod. This not hidden in Derek’s chest when said man had let go of Stiles and was silently moving towards the en suite. 

“We’ll help you Stiles” Peter told him. “It will be okay, we promise”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, only one chapter to go. I'll put it out there tomorrow I hope.


	5. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What the title says

It was months of hard work.

Months when Stiles wouldn’t leave Peter’s apartment.

Buckets of tears.

Derek gave up the pretence of living in the loft, and moved in. He and Stiles shared bed, dresser and room in general. 

The Sheriff set up camp in Peter’s office. Where he had a very luxurious pull out bed that the Sheriff used. Peter saw to it that there was a dresser ordered within the first week of the Sheriff staying. 

Derek let Peter arrange for, and see to it that Stiles met with a therapist. They started with conversations that led to CBT, to help Stiles understand what he was feeling and why. And what he could do to change things. 

Together all of it helped him understand that the way the teenaged werewolves had interacted with him, was not a normal way to interact. Derek had had anger issues. The rest of them had been abusing him with the way they were thoughtless. They helped him understand that what had happened to him in his relationship was abuse. Every way you looked at it. 

The teenaged star-crossed lover set up that had been Scott and Alison had been hurting so many people, and if Alison had lived, and even when she did, they’d both realised that it wasn’t good. She had been with Isaac in the end. And Scott had found Kira. To shut out everyone else, and just live in your bubble was not how relationships worked. Not between lovers, and not between friends.

Stiles kind of reprogrammed himself. Derek got pulled in on the way. When Stiles started to speak outside of his therapy, it was with Derek. The things they talked about. Derek decided finally to own up to the fact that maybe he needed therapy too. 

And when Stiles started to try to leave the apartment he had Derek as company. On his first outing he borrowed money from Peter, because he had decided to try to buy himself a new Laptop. Derek didn’t add anything to the acquisition of said Laptop. But he was security that made Stiles dare to do things out of his comfort zone. 

Stiles thrived. He even got back into some online courses at the university. He helped his dad one night a week sorting and organizing his files. Cleaning the coffeepot and the coffeemaker. Easy things, that gave him some pocket change. And gave him time outside the apartment.

He didn’t meet up with anyone else from the McCall pack, he was sure it had to do with him almost always being in Peter’ or Derek’s company. And that they steered him away if they scented another wolf coming close. 

He wasn’t the curious, loud mouth and always talking kid he’d been, but curiosity was one of the things that slowly came back to him, in more balanced levels though. He also liked to know things, and they had pack nights where they played board games, which helped both with strategy and shrewdness. Not that Peter needed any of that. He had them all beat before they knew what was going on. 

*

It took Stiles almost half a year to walk out of the apartment by himself, and go to buy a packet of Doritos, and walk back. 

*

In half the time he’d realised that his interest for Derek was more than just friendly, safety interest. It was one of the first real things he spoke about with his therapist. 

*

It took Stiles seven months to realise, and ask, or yeah, let’s go with ask. it was the pack-nights that did it. They lived together, and hung out together. But once a week, they planed something. His wolves seemed to not have a pack outside him and his father. Did they have a secret pack? Did they leave and see Scott? Was there any risk of them going Omega? This got him really worried, and he rushed from where he was sitting, at his new desk in his room, to where Peter, Derek and his dad was hanging out in front of the TV. In his defence he was somewhere between upset, worried and in full blown panic when he yelled “Are you going Omega” at his two wolves.

“What on earth gave you that idea, darling?” Peter asked confused. Derek just made his eyebrows go ‘serial murder’ on Stiles.

“Well, you don’t seem to meet Scott, you seem to only hang out with me and my dad, and yeah…” he trickled off. 

“Do you have pack, is it a secret pack?” he asked after a brief pause.

“No Stiles there is no secret pack” Derek tried to explain. “You and your dad are enough. We have pack bonds with both of you. Your father is our Alpha. Even if he’s not a wolf, he has the authority, and we submit to him. It’s enough. You are enough” 

Stiles cried a little with that. But it was happy tears.

*

A year after that day that Peter had entered the apartment, Stiles looked around in his room, and slowly moved out into the living room. He saw his favourite blanket folded on the couch. It was a big Captain America blanket.  
He liked it here.   
He could be who he was.   
He could say what he wanted.   
He could do almost everything his heart desired   
And when he spoke, his pack listened.   
Every day was still a battle. But he wasn’t alone in the fight.

There was a key in the door and he watched as Derek walked in. it was the perfect opportunity. Faith was playing right into his hands. His father was at work, and Peter… Well Peter was doing whatever Peter does when he wants to do something. 

“Derek, just the person” he said looking at said man. Derek looked up at him, as he put his keys and wallet on the dresser in the hallway. 

“How would you feel about going on a date with me, Friday night” he asked.

Derek’s face lit up as he smiled at Stiles and nodded enthusiastically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want you to remember that there is no one who has the right to abuse someone else. No one deserves abuse. There are hotlines around the world to support you if you are in ANY kind of abusive relationship. If you are a friend, you probably have one or more. Friends want you to count on them, and friends can help. Be a friend. I've been lucky with mine.
> 
> And on an other note, I'm thinking of writing about that first date.


End file.
